Head to Saint John’s Resort for Mother’s Day

Nestled near the heart of Plymouth, Michigan, Saint John's Resort’s rich history dates back to the early 20th century. This sprawling hotel and conference center was initially conceived as a Catholic seminary.

In 1948, the bishops established St. John's Provincial Seminary as a “major” seminary in the Midwest, meaning it could award graduate degrees. The seminary was responsible for educating priesthood candidates in the Catholic church from the dioceses of Detroit, Lansing, Grand Rapids, Saginaw, Gaylord, Kalamazoo, and Marquette.

In the late 1980s, due to the declining number of priesthood candidates, students from St. John’s were transferred to Sacred Heart Seminary in Detroit. Then, Saint John’s was thoughtfully developed into a resort called The Inn at St. John’s, featuring a hotel, a Catholic conference center, and a golf course.

In 2021, William Pulte Family Management purchased The Inn at St. John’s from the Catholic Archdiocese of Detroit.

Since then, it has been continuously developed and awarded the prestigious AAA Four Diamond Luxury Full Service Hotel Award multiple times. This resort has a ton of drool-worthy amenities, but better than anything else that is offered is knowing that 100% of the profits go to The Pulte Family Charitable Foundation, helping those in need, both near and far.

The resort further contributes to the community by employing refugees and offering them a home. In addition, it " rescues” unused food by transporting it to soup kitchens in Detroit.

As my dear mother-in-law, Pam, said, “Order another bottle! It’s for a good cause.”

When Pam and I arrived at St. John’s, the sun was setting. Through the arch-shaped windows, a warm glow spread throughout the lobby.

We had scheduled a tour of the property, and we found ourselves waiting for our guide in a quiet alcove.We sat in velvet armchairs, which met around a healthy pink orchid perched on a marble coffee table. Because the light was just right and because my dear mother-in-law looked so peaceful, I took a few photos.

Saint John’s is a photographer’s dream. The light, its shadows, and the carefully curated artwork occupy the luxurious sitting areas and lush gardens in such a way that everything feels intentional. The interior designer must have known how the setting sun would play so well with the gold-framed crimson-dotted painting in the lobby. Just as that same designer had to have known, the shadows on the polished brick floors would point visitors on their way, from room to room, in the early morning hours.

After taking a few precious pictures of Pam, our tour guide arrived. She proudly escorted us through the resort, starting in the St. Mary and Joseph Chapel. Preparations were underway for both a wedding and a rehearsal dinner that night. We felt like we were on the set of a movie. The florists and servers bustled through the resort, preparing for the evening’s events. Mounds of flowers were carted in alongside baskets of ivory linens.

In the chapel, guests began to gather. A dark-haired woman in a short white dress, holding a flimsy bouquet of colorful ribbons, stood near the chapel entrance. She kissed her guests on the cheeks as they filed in for the rehearsal ceremony. We ducked out of the chapel and followed the cacophony of florists, caterers, bartenders, and servers down the windowed hall to a two-storied ballroom in motion.

“There will be a wedding here tonight,” our tour guide smiled.

Dancing about the room, the wedding planner, her dark hair swept up into a messy bun, switches from English to Arabic and back again as she commands her orchestra of wedding attendants. She is rushing behind them to straighten the wayward fork or center the glass vase of soft pink roses.

Smiling, we make our way past this busy scene and into the gardens. The breeze is light, and the sun is fading in the Mary Garden. A fountain of water replenishes itself while we take in the sweet scent of pine and freshly cut grass. We only left this sanctuary because of an upcoming reservation at The Wine Grotto.

There is a seven-month waiting list for a seat at this underground crypt-turned-chic wine bar. (Although our lovely waitress assured us there were daily opportunities to walk in and find a spot at the bar, I wouldn’t risk it without a quick phone call.) We scored a seat in a secluded section of The Grotto decorated with jewel-colored reds and blues and dotted with emerald velvet cushions. We felt as cozy as we did chic. Our waitress brought us a bottle of Pinot Grigio (Pam’s favorite) and kept our glasses full.

A bottle of wine calls for charcuterie, and The Grotto has a create-your-own charcuterie menu option! Overwhelmed by all the choices, we asked our waitress to suggest something based on our likes and dislikes. She filled a hefty wooden tray with cherry jam, crostini, prosciutto, goat cheese, olives, dried fruits, and nuts. All of which perfectly complemented the wine.

She nailed it.

We sat for what must have been hours, savoring the food, drink, and atmosphere. People trickled in. And soon the restaurant was full. The muffled conversations and echoing laughter cushioned the space. Further, the wine began to turn our cheeks pink and fill our heads with stories. We guessed at other patrons' reasons for being there, making stories to fit their physical traits and mannerisms. The man in the dark blue suit at the bar, his head hung low over a bourbon on ice, must be in love with the bride-to-be upstairs, who is in the chapel with his brother. The middle-aged man in the pressed gray pants and black button-down shirt sitting across from the white-haired woman with red lipstick and the Chanel purse—well, it is clear they are having a secret affair. They meet here in this exclusive hideaway once a month. (Or maybe that’s his mother or his aunt.)

The thing about The Grotto is that it turns regular people into characters fit for Masterpiece Theatre or Bravo TV. It’s artsy, and it’s moody. It makes you feel way cooler than you probably are, and chances are that you will uncharacteristically throw your head back when you laugh drink in hand. It's the kind of place jazz artists and poets must hang out.

Was it perfect for a Mother’s Day ladies' night out with my mother-in-law? Of course. It’s a place that’s perfect for absolutely anything. It elevates everything.

It’s good that there is a hotel upstairs. For all the fun downstairs, no guest will want to travel too far for a good night’s sleep. Our palatial Deluxe Double Queen Room was on the third floor. Just a short elevator ride up from The Grotto. Our room included two queen pillow-topped beds covered in white Egyptian cotton bedding facing a large LED Flat-Screen TV.

Earlier in the day, our tour guide had planted a tray of chocolate under the TV with a kind note. It was the sweetest ending to a perfect day. Putting on my tired flannel nightgown after washing up with Molton Brown toiletries in the immaculate bathroom was just what I needed. I mean, really, I think it’s what anybody could ever need.

Is it possible to feel more at home than when you are at home? Maybe it was the wine or the chocolate or the cozy bedding, but I fell asleep before I could even think about watching a movie on the TV.